


Gingerbread Houses

by whitetiger91



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Christmas, Family, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Feels, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Gift Exchange, Gift Fic, Humor, family love, gingerbread
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 00:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13111638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitetiger91/pseuds/whitetiger91
Summary: His mother and sister had made the perfect gingerbread house for Christmas day. Unfortunately, his younger brother, Robert, was also eyeing it off, and if Malcolm didn't do something to protect it, only crumbs would remain. Written as a gift for as part of the Leaky Cauldron's Secret Santa.





	Gingerbread Houses

"There we go, gently now… good," their mother said.

Malcolm watched as his mother guided his sister's hand as she placed the last gumdrop on the gingerbread house. He let out a breath that he hadn't known he was holding when Minerva didn't bump anything, and the house remained intact. Although he knew his mother was a witch and could probably repair it if it did break down, he also knew that she wouldn't use magic in front of his father, and there was nothing worse than eating a crumbly mess.

"Can I just test a bit—" his little brother began. The brunet reached towards the house, hazel eyes trained on the roof's white icing.

Thankfully, Minerva was one step ahead. She swatted Robert's hand away, narrowing her eyes at the boy. "No, you may not test it. Mother and I worked very hard on this, and you will have to wait until Christmas day before you can eat it."

"But—"

"No."

Part of him had wished that his sister let his brother taste the house because that would mean that he, too, could take a bite. He had his eye on the small snowball figure on the corner. Still, if knew that if he had some now, he would regret it on Christmas day when the only other deserts would be the horrible fruitcake his grandmother made or the plum pudding his father ordered. They needed to be patient, and with only two days left, it would be alright.

His mother placed a hand on Robert's shoulder and smiled down at him. "If you help clean up this mess, you can have some pumpkin spice scones."

Robert's eyes lit up. Without waiting for further instruction, he took the mixing bowl off the counter and all but threw it into the sink. Water splashed everywhere as he turned on the faucet. His mother ran over to help him before he broke anything and began the washing up herself.

Malcolm picked up a tea-towel. Next to the gingerbread house, his mother's pumpkin spice scones were amazing and certainly worth cleaning up for.

As they worked, however, Malcolm noticed that Robert had grown bored. Whilst the boy swept up all the flour and crumbs from the floor, his eyes would wander back to the gingerbread house. Minerva had placed it on the top-most cupboard shelf, covered by a cloth, but it would only take a carefully-placed chair to reach it.

He needed to make a plan to ensure that by morning, the gingerbread house would still be there. It wasn't that he didn't trust Robert, but if a boy had to choose between waiting a few days or satisfying his stomach, he would probably pick the latter. Unlike Malcolm, Robert could eat anything, including dry fruit cake and pudding, and would have plenty to enjoy.

No, he knew what he exactly what he needed to do.

* * *

The clock on the wall chimed 3am, giving Malcolm's heart a start. He sat up and slapped his face, even as his eyes started to close once more. With a sigh, he got up and walked over to the sink and splashed cool water on his face.

He couldn't fall asleep, not again.

Looking at the cupboard, he saw that the door was still closed. At least Robert had not tried to sneak in to grab it yet, and if he could stay awake for another four hours at least, he probably wouldn't.

Malcolm walked back over to the pile of blankets underneath the table. He snuggled up inside them and leant his head against one of the table's legs. In front of him, a small pile of cards were set up. He had only just learnt how to play Solitaire and had spent the night playing. It wasn't quite as fun as using Exploding Snap cards, though, and the amusement had easily passed within an hour or so.

It was cold in the kitchen, the chill air seeming to seep into his bones. It didn't help his tiredness at all; in fact, it seemed to encourage him to close his eyes. He desperately wished that he could light the stove fire, but doing so would probably wake his family.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

His eyes wandered around the room, trying to find something to occupy himself with. He should've brought along a book to read, or perhaps some paper and pencils to colour in with. He had forgotten to grab them in his hurry to get to the kitchen after lights out.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

Stifling a yawn, he looked at the clock. Only six minutes had passed, the second hand barely seeming to move. In fact, the more he stared at it, the more he could swear that it wasn't moving at all.

Perhaps… perhaps he could take a small break, run up to his room and fetch a book? Surely Robert wouldn't try anything during the time he was gone? No, he wouldn't, and when he went to their room, he'd check to make sure that he was still asleep.

He stretched his arms and legs. With another yawn, he threw aside the blanket and pushed himself up.

The creak of the kitchen door, however, had him crouching back down.

Torchlight pooled into the room, and another creak sounded the closing of the door once more. Malcolm shrunk away from the light, bringing his knees up to his chest. He didn't want his brother to know he was in there, not yet anyway; he had to wait until he tried to get the gingerbread house so that he could catch him red-handed. As it were, Robert seemed to have been even smarter than expected. The boy had donned a pair of fluffy slippers and was able to effectively muffle his footsteps as he tiptoed past the table.

Malcolm held his breath as best as he could and listened as his brother moved about. His heart rate increased as Robert scraped back on of the chairs and dragged it over to the cupboard.

Any minute now.

Slowly pulling himself up once more, he waited until he heard the cupboard doors open before grabbing his torch and crawling out from underneath the table. Flicking it on, he shone the torch into the thief's eyes.

"Aha!"

"Ugh, turn that thing off!"

Malcolm almost dropped his torch. "Minnie?"

There, atop a chair and with a fistful of gingerbread, stood his sister. Her other hand was shielding her eyes, and he quickly redirected the torch light.

"Minnie, what are you doing?" he repeated.

Minerva's cheeks grew red, and she stared at her feet. "I was just checking that the gingerbread house was alright."

Malcolm stood on his toes and looked past his sister's head. The cloth covering the gingerbread house was pulled off, revealing half a wall and a few missing gumdrops.

"Well it certainly isn't alright," he said.

His sister looked at the house and bit her lip. "It can still be saved," she said, tugging at the roof of the house. "If I just—oh!"

As she tried to bend some of the roof down to cover the missing wall, the cookie snapped, and the wall caved in. The entire piece followed suit, collapsing in a mess of brown and white.

"It's ruined!" Malcolm gasped.

Minerva shook her head. She picked up some of the wall and tried to fit it back together, but it simply fell to the side. When she turned back to Malcolm, he could see her green eyes were brimming with tears.

"I didn't mean to ruin it. I just—I just wanted to taste it," she whispered. "Now what am I going to do?"

Malcolm looked back at the wreck of a desert. He should tell on Minerva, really, let his mother know what she had done. She had spoilt it for him, let alone for the rest of the family; when he thought about how patient he himself had been, it hurt even more. Still, he couldn't really blame her, and it was Christmas after all…

"I think… I think we should just eat it now. It's already broken and it would be a shame to waste it," he said, walking over to the chair. He held his hands out for it, and after some deliberation, Minerva passed it down to him. "We still have the ingredients, don't we?"

Minerva nodded. "Maybe. Maw was able to buy some extra flour and Gertie will have laid a few more eggs by the morning," she said, her eyes now full of hope. The spark vanished quickly, though, and she added, "but I don't know about the gumdrops or anything."

"We can just make another one tomorrow—or try to, anyway—and in the meantime tell Maw the mice got at it or something."

"I don't know…"

"C'mon, we'd better hurry and eat so we can put the plate back and cover it. We'll take little bites and leave a bit," he said.

He could tell that Minerva wanted to argue further, but they really didn't have a choice. Putting the plate on the table, Malcolm picked up the snowman and popped it into his mouth. The crumbly biscuit melted in his mouth, and the icing had just the right amount of sweetness to it. He managed to gobble it up in just a few bites, and he smacked his lips.

"This is delicious," he said, grinning at his sister.

Minerva grinned back. She took another piece of the wall and took a bite.

Together, the two of them managed to consume half of the house. To him, the gingerbread house seemed to be even tastier, perhaps because he shouldn't have been eating it. He would probably have eaten more, had it not been for the sudden light flooding the room.

"What in Merlin's—on Earth are you two doing?"

The two children froze and turned to their mother. She was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, their father by her side. Robert was there, too, clutching the arm of his teddy bear. When he saw what had happened to the gingerbread house, his mouth fell open.

It was too late to hide what they had done, and Malcolm glanced at Minerva. "I—I told Minnie that we should ea—"

"—It was my fault, not his." Minerva gave him a sharp look. "I couldn't help it… I got hungry and, well…"

Malcolm went to protest, to admit his part in what had happened—after all, he had suggested they finish it. His sister, however, pressed her foot on his, and he closed his mouth.

Robert looked like he was about to cry. His lips were trembling, and he glared at the two of them. Their mother, on the other hand, shook her head. As she started walking towards them, Malcolm braced himself to be given a hiding. He took a step back, moving closer to Minnie, who clutched his arm.

The woman walked right past them, however, and stopped in front of the small pantry. Opening the wooden door, she took out a small plate wrapped in cloth. When she turned around, a small smile was on her face.

"It's lucky I made another one, then, isn't it?" she said, her hazel eyes twinkling.

She lifted the cloth off, and sure enough, there was another gingerbread house sitting atop the plate, complete with gumdrops and jelly beans. Robert's chin stopped wobbling, and he clapped his hands together.

Malcolm looked at Minerva, and it was clear that she was as confused as he. "How?"

Their mother shook her head and placed the cloth back on the gingerbread house. Stowing it away in the pantry, she turned back to them.

"I had a feeling that some hungry little mice would get to the house, so I made your father buy a spare just in case," she said.

He turned to where his father was, still by the door, and saw that he, too, was grinning. The man placed his hands on Robert's shoulders and pushed him to the table.

"We may as well finish this one up in case the real mice do try to look for it," his father said. He reached over Robert and took the figurine of a little old man and, with a wink, bit off the head. "Scrumptious!"

That set Robert off, who snatched up the only other remaining figurine of an old woman and bit into it.

Minerva shrugged, and slowly, her lips turned up into a smile. Looking to her mother to see if she was angry—and finding out that no, according to the icing now caking her fingers, she wasn't—she then followed suit and ate some more.

Malcolm rolled his eyes at all of them. Not one member of his family seemed to be patient. Then again, neither was he. He lifted the biscuit piece he still had in his hand and bit into it. Next year, he would make sure they made as many gingerbread houses as possible, just in case he had to guard one again next year.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for... well, I don't actually know at this point in time, as this is a reverse Secret Santa of sorts haha. This is written for the Secret Santa of Dinosaurs event on the Leaky Cauldron forum (where my FanFiction family resides). My dinosaur was the 'bambiraptor', and of the prompts given, I used: gingerbread, pumpkin spice, 'good' kid doing something 'bad,' and rebellion (and to some extent Hogwarts teacher). This person loves Minerva McGonagall, so I thought I'd write a story about her as a child and try to play around with her personality and family dynamic. Some people may think she's a little OOC, but I think Minnie could be a bit of a rebel when she wanted to be, especially as a child. It's not too historically accurate either, and I'm really sorry I couldn't incorporate the Hamilton prompt (especially since I've never really heard of or watched/ listened to it before).
> 
> I really, really hope you like this story, though, and I wish you (and all the readers) a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!


End file.
